Insensitive
by Blue Teller
Summary: Ed and Al attend Uncle Urey and Auntie Sara Rockbell's funeral. Neither of them cry, but there seems to be something weighing on Alphonse's mind. Based on real-life situation, one-shot


"Dear people of Resembool. We have gathered here today to pay our respects to the lives of Urey and Sara Rockbell…"

Edward and Alphonse stood quietly in the funeral procession, listening to the Resembool Elder's speech. A week ago, Winry and Granny Pinako received the tragic news of the Rockbells' death in Ishval. The boys weren't told how and why, and they didn't dare to ask. They doubted that even Granny knew, anyway – it's difficult to determine who's responsible for every murder which takes place in a war.

Yes. It was murder, Ed thought bitterly. The nine-year-old refused to call the deaths of such amazing people as Auntie Sara and Uncle Urey mere 'casualties of war'. They were murdered, forcefully taken away from this world, by some soulless solider or Ishvalan rebel. They were the last people on this planet who deserved such cruel fate.

Edward glanced at Winry. She was standing a couple of feet away, clinging to her Granny. She was crying, again. She'd been crying almost nonstop ever since the news came. He couldn't blame her. But he still felt frustrated – not with her, but himself. He desperately wished he could do something, anything, to make her feel better. However there was nothing _to_ do, nor _to_ say. Her parents were gone, forever, and that was it. She would never see them again.

Unless…

Ed frowned and turned away. He couldn't tell her about what he and Al were planning on doing, it was supposed to be a secret. Besides, he doubted Granny Pinako would approve. No, there was really nothing he could do at the moment. Nothing except standing there and silently providing support.

He looked at the new gravestone, located not too far away from his mother's:

 _Urey Rockbell_

 _Beloved father, husband, son_

 _1873 – 1908_

 _Sara Rockbell_

 _Beloved mother, wife, daughter-in-law_

 _1874 – 1908_

He decided right then and there; he hated war. In fact, he loathed it. Killing other people, no matter for what reason – it was _wrong_. He swore to himself:

 _I will never, **ever** , take someone's life. I'd rather **die** myself than cause other people such pain. Especially Winry and Al…_

Honestly, Ed stopped listening to the speech long time ago. He looked at his little brother, wondering if he wasn't paying attention either. Alphonse seemed focused and completely calm, much to Ed's relief. There was something in Al's expression though, something strange. It looked a little bit like guilt.

Ed, being the big brother, put his arm around him and pulled him closer to comfort him. Al immediately wrapped his hands around his torso, hiding his face in Ed's shoulder. Edward rubbed his back soothingly.

Nothing was said by either of the them until the procession was over. They pulled away and walked up to Winry and Granny.

"Hey, Winry," Ed said quietly.

Winry wiped her eyes, as if to pretend she hadn't been crying, which was rather useless. Her entire face was red and covered in tears. "H-hey, Ed. Hey Al."

"We're so sorry, Winry," Al lowered his head, eyes on the ground.

Winry sniffled, then hugged them both fiercely. Ed would normally protest against such display of affection from a _girl_ , but today he would make an exception. He hugged her back.

"We're here for you Winry, alright?" he whispered, thinking: _Please don't cry anymore. I don't know what to do._

"Thanks, Ed," she told him with gratefulness in her eyes. "Thank you both for coming."

They didn't say anything to that. How could they _not_ come – Auntie and Uncle Rockbell were like second parents to them.

After the funeral was all over, all three children and Granny went to the Rockbell house and ate dinner. It was stew, Ed's favorite, but he barely paid any attention to the flavor. He was more concerned with his brother.

Alphonse was acting strange. Every time Ed looked at him he would bit his lip and look away, as if he was feeling guilty of something. Ed wondered what made Al behave in such way – Al was _never_ like this, even when he sneaked out a treat when he wasn't supposed to. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but nobody was speaking right now and Ed didn't want to interrupt the mutual silence. It felt like they'd taken the funeral with them.

The boys finally finished their meal and headed back to their own house. Ed decided to wait until they got there to speak with Al.

It turned out he didn't have to.

"Brother?" Al spoke timidly, not looking at him.

"Yeah, Al? What is it?" Ed asked gently, to avoid discouraging him.

"Do you… do you think I'm an insensitive person?"

Ed stared at him, stunned. He did not expect a question like that.

"Of course you're sensitive, Al!" he exclaimed. "I mean… you're tough, but you're never rude or impolite or anything and you always know how to comfort people. There's no way you're insensitive!"

"But then… why didn't I cry?"

Edward blinked.

"I mean, Auntie and Uncle Rockbell… they were like family to us. And we all loved them so much…" Al's head lowered. "So why couldn't I cry? Why can't I cry for them?"

Ed stopped and grabbed his shoulder, but he still refused to look at him. "Al...?"

"Winry cried for them, she cares so much. Even Granny cried a little bit during the funeral, I've seen it! But not me… What's wrong with me?"

"Hey, Al, it's not a big deal," Ed was pretty confused. "I didn't cry either."

"But you're… you!" Alphonse suddenly exploded. "You're always strong for me and Winry and you never let yourself cry about anything! You haven't cried once since the day mom died!"

Ed flinched and stepped away at the claim. He had never thought about it, especially not like that. He just wasn't the type of person to cry much. Edward had always preferred action over tears. The reason he didn't cry during the funeral was because Winry was already upset enough and…

…oh. He could see Al's point now.

"Al, it's not like that…"

"Yes it is! You don't cry because you choose not to, but I… I want to cry for them, and for some reason, I _can't_! Why am I being such a horrible person?!"

"Al, stop this!" Ed grabbed both of his shoulders and shook them forcefully. "Listen to me. You're not a horrible person. You don't need to feel guilty because you can't cry right now. Nobody is being angry at you for not crying, you hear me?"

Al's expression was positively crushed. "But…"

"Nobody _forces_ themselves to cry, it doesn't work like that Al. Just because you don't feel like it doesn't mean you didn't love them, and we know that!" Then, Ed's voice softened: "And they know that, too."

He could see Al's bottom lip quivering.

"It's okay, Al. I'm not blaming you, and neither is Winry, or Granny, or anyone else. You're not insensitive, you're one of the most sensitive guys out there. And I mean that as a good thing."

Suddenly, Alphonse's eyes filled with water. He squeezed them in apparent effort to stop the liquid from spilling, but it was too late. Al tackled his brother in a tight embrace and sobbed.

"Brother..."

"Shhh…" Ed murmured, combing his hair with his fingers just like mom used to when they were little. "It's okay, Al. It's okay."

The brothers stood there, unmoving, until the golden sun hid itself behind the horizon.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I recently got a mail which said that my Grandfather died.**

 **I did not cry.**

 **I'm not an insensitive person. In fact, I tear up very easily: I cry during movies, I cry when I'm angry or frustrated, I cry when I get hurt. But for some reason, not a single tear fell from my eye since the day I found out. At first, I thought: "What's wrong with me? Am I not supposed to be upset that my family member passed away?" But then I realized – crying is not a sort of obligation. Just because I'm not weeping and depressed, doesn't mean that I didn't love my Grandpa. Because I did, and I'm going to miss him. He was a good man; stubborn, but kind and loving and very hard-working. If more men where like him, this world would be a better place.**

 **Perhaps my reason for lack of visible grief, is that I didn't get to spend with him as much time as I would have wished. Or maybe because I know that he would want us to move on. I'm also a Christian, so I firmly believe he's in Heaven right now, which gives me strength.**

 **What I want is for all of my readers, who encounter situations similar to this one, to take comfort in this: crying is a natural reaction, and a good one, but it is _not_ an obligation. It is admirable to grieve along with people who suffer (even Jesus grieved for Lazarus – check _John 11:33_ if you don't believe me), but it is just as admirable to support them in silence.**

 **As you can probably tell, I did not plan this story. It was something I needed to write, I believe. I wish good things for all of you, and comfort to those who have lost their loved ones.**

 **God Bless You,**

 **-Blue Teller**


End file.
